Perfect Childhood Disected in All

Nobody has a perfect childhood. Nobody. And mine was no exception.
Earlier I wrote about my perfect childhood. Now I am going to tell you about it from the perspective of a girl with wide open eyes. So lets start from the beginning. My father was married in 1960 something to his high school sweetheart. In late 60 something he joined the Navy. In 1971 my brother was born. By 1972 my father and his first wife were divorced. My Father's first wife had come out to the family as a lesbian. My brother was an oops baby.

My mother lost her father when she was 14 and as a young woman had to take on the role of mother to her younger 3 year old brother while her mother went out into the work force to earn a living. She married her first husband when she was 19, it was 1968. She had her first child when she was 20. At some point in the future, the details of when exactly are a bit foggy, as I have never been told when, my mother left her first husband after a bout of domestic violence that landed her in the hospital.

My parents were married in April 1975. After dating only 86 days. (That calculation is questionable as it was figured out by my sister and brother when they were teenagers) I do not know how my parents met and I do not know how long they were together before they were married.

There is a very good reason that I do not know these things. I don't know what it is, but there must be a good reason. (I know the reason now, but for the sake of story telling I am not telling you what it is yet.)

I know nothing about my parents relationship past prior to 1975. Other than the obvious facts above regarding their past. I have never really thought to bring it up either. It was what it was. What would I gain from digging into their past? Nothing really. My parents were married and growing up that was all that mattered to me. That was what life was. I didn't know any different. And I wasn't the type of child to question things. Well maybe I was, but that was beaten out of me at a pretty young age if I was. I did what I was told because I was trained to be seen and not heard.

This is because my mother is a narcissist. I am not my own person. In her eyes I am merely an extension of her. I was born to make her look good. (To make her look better). And can you imagine all the narcissistic supply she must have gotten when she told the world she had twins! Twins were so rare back then. In fact, she didn't even know she was having twins until she was in the delivery room. Before I was even born, I was helping my mom out, giving her all the narcissistic supply her heart could desire. But then unfortunately, I had to go an grow up and become a person.

So I was brought into this world as an unhealthy extension of my mother. Which meant that every single thing I did reflected on her. If I misbehaved, it made her look bad. If I spoke out of turn, it made her look bad. If I remembered my manners, it made her look good. If I did more volunteer work at church it made her look good. If my hair was messed up or I tore my dress it made her look bad. Anyway you get the picture. I was a little Stepford child, and I lived in a Stepford house. Everything was about keeping up appearances. I truly believe this is the only reason I got anything of material value. It was the only reason I was able to participate in any extracurricular activities. Because it made her look like a good person. "Look at what a good mom, providing opportunities like that for her children. She must be really successful too, to have extra money to be able to put her kids in all those activities. And their house is so lovely. And she always makes it to church every week. And always helps with volunteering and church activities."

Now I know it must seem confusing, because it would seem like those are really all great things. But there is the side that outsiders don't see. They don't see how fake it all is. They don't hear the venomous comments made out of ear shot whispered in my ear. What they hear is the joke that is made about her children to try to laugh off their bad behavior, what I hear is a back handed insult given to a room of strangers, after the actual insult was just whispered in my ear. The arm grabs and pinches done when no one was looking. The dirty looks when I wasn't meeting her approval of what a good kid should act and/or look like. At home, behind the closed doors there was always screaming. There was always insulting. There was always fighting. And it all started from her. Nothing was ever good enough. And no one could argue because she was always right. Even when she was wrong she was right. And you better not expect an apology when she was wrong. Because it won't happen. In fact I don't believe those words have ever crossed her lips. (except once- which floored me- but that is another story) My twin and I spent every afternoon doing chores. Then after dinner my sister and I had to clean up dinner. (That is until we got smart enough to say we had a ton of homework to get done and didn't have time to do dishes) And the daily chores weren't enough, every Saturday was spent cleaning the house, top to bottom. If my mom was on the couch downstairs and everyone else was upstairs and she needed a tissue, she would call one of us to come downstairs and get her a tissue. From the bathroom that was 10 feet away from her. She would call us downstairs to let the dog in- from the door that was 10 feet away from her. She would have us refill her drink. This keep in mind, was while trying to get chores or homework done, while she sat on the couch watching TV. We were her little slave children. Whatever she needed we did. Except cooking. She wouldn't let us near the stove. My guess is because in her mind we were too incompetent to use the stove.

This was not a house full of hugs and I love you's. This was a house full of commands and fear. Nothing was ever given to be nice. It was given so it could be used against you later, or used as a bargaining chip. "Remember when I gave you that thing? Well now I need you to do something nice for me." A house full of manipulations and lies. A mother who would pit her own children against each other in order to make herself look better. And if you tried to explain your side of the story. Well, "That's just not how it happened". You were wrong. Your memory of events is incorrect. (No wonder I have such a shitty memory now!) She was the epitome of a hypocrite.
We would all pile into the car each Sunday and head off to church. And join in the fellowship. My mom was in the Choir. My Dad was an usher. My sister and I acolytes. We learned in Sunday school about forgiveness and being a good person. But when we got home and behind closed doors again, there was nothing good being spoken. Racial slurs poured out of my moms mouth, insults to her husband and children about how stupid they were, and what they did wrong during church. A Good Christian woman spewing nothing but hurtful hateful words in her own home, to the people whom she is supposed to love the most.

One thing I did learn from growing up in a family like this was that I never want to be a hypocrite. I am not a liar. I try everyday to see things from the other person's point of view. I try to be understanding and compassionate. I try to give as much love as possible to those who are close to me.

Last updated April 25, 2014